The Three Strikes 1: Welcome to Whatley's
by Arctur
Summary: Three friends and thier exloits at Whatley's Academy of Sorcery. Takes place during the events in Prisoner of Azkabahn.
1. Default Chapter

The Three Strikes  
  
1: Welcome to Whately's  
  
The chocolate frog almost reached the open window when a deft hand snatched it in midleap. The bearer of the hand, a eleven year old boy in dark robes, with a freckled face and hair cut in a mullet, held the struggling confection closer to his eye and tentatively bit off one hind leg. He smiled with a look of relief the inside wasn't bone and muscle, consumed the rest of the frog and licked the melted chocolate off his fingers. The boy felt eyes on him; looking in the terrarium to his side the toad within gave the boy a condemning stare.  
  
"Don't give me that, I saw the shopkeeper feed you one of your smaller cousins and you didn't mind." He turned to the window, watching the forests of British Columbia pass by.  
  
Sitting across from him were two other boys his age. One had blonde hair cut neatly, and a handsome face similar to a young prince William, on his lap rested a cage with a barn owl inside that exchanged glares with a caged rat sitting by the third boy, a mulatto with short dreadlocks.  
  
For a while the three sat in silence, looking out the window. Finally the third boy turned to the first, "You hear about that Sirius dude breaking out?"  
  
"Hear about it, " the blonde boy answered in an unmistakably British accent, "My mum moved us across the ocean and had me transferred here on hearing he was loose."  
  
It took a moment for the three to realize they conversed but forgot to introduce themselves. The blonde boy went first, and introduced himself as Thurston Windsor (wincing when he said Thurston). The third boy reached out a hand and called himself Daniel Svarsgaard. The first boy shook Daniel's hand, "Joel McGruffry. It's actually Billy Joe but I call myself Joel to sound less like a rube."  
  
Thurston laughed, "And I gripe about my name sounding too blue-blood! How about you be Thurston and I'll be Billy Joe?"  
  
"How about," Daniel started "He be Joel and you be- Thirsty?"  
  
Thurston and Joel giggled, "Thirsty. It'll give my mother conniptions. I LOVE it!"  
  
They laughed until the train jerked upward and picked up speed, nearly falling out of their seats. Daniel, farthest from the window grabbed a handrail, "Have we been derailed?"  
  
Thurston looked out the window, "We aren't just off the track, we're off the bleeding ground!" And indeed the land was falling away from them fast.  
  
The snack trolley came past, the witch pushing it completely calm. Daniel held out a hand to stop her, "'Scuse me, but are we supposed to be airborne?"  
  
Her eyes rolled, "Of course we are, don't they ever tell you first years?" She moved on past.  
  
Joel turned back to his friends but the window caught his eye. By now the train had pierced the clouds and waiting behind the layer of vapours was-  
  
It looked as if a mountain had been uprooted and hung on an invisible hook in the sky. On one face of the mountain was a plateau the size of a football (rugby) field and behind it was Whatley's Academy of Sorcery, which had been carved into the rock itself, there was even a station for the flying train.  
  
The three were silent when the last car had stopped, they walked out on autopilot, not even getting their bags as the conductor elves took them to the first year dormitories. Older students told the first years to follow them to the great hall.  
  
As the three boys walked Thurston's eyes darted looking at the murals and paintings that moved and looked back at him. Staring down from the ceiling were wizards in Puritan clothing opposite Native men in elaborate costumes and frightening masks.  
  
Joel leaned closer to Thirsty's ear, "Shamen. There were some nasty power struggles with them in the past, ugly for everyone."  
  
Thirsty was about to speak when four witches ploughed their way through the boys, three of them following another with bleach blond hair, who might have been pretty had her nose not stuck so high in the air the capillaries risked breaking.  
  
Thirsty groaned, "My sister. Named Hero, which kind of fits as Mum keeps pointing out I should try to be more like her." He stared at Hero's new sycophants, "And she's already got a bunch of yes-witches."  
  
The Great Hall was massive; it seemed to take up more space inside than out. Seven long tables faced an eighth that rested on a platform, where the faculty watched over. The older students took seats at the table designated for their year, then the first year students circled the empty table playing a little musical chairs before finally taking seats, those of newly formed cliques sitting together. Once everyone sat and the noise died down the Dean called for attention. Dean Mather was tall and wiry; he wore a light kimono decorated with bizarre creatures and a wig like the kind judges in muggle courts were associated with. On speaking his voice carried all throughout the hall yet seemed calm and civil, "Greetings first year students, and welcome back students of old. For you novices, know that the catacombs beneath the school proper are dangerous, and off limits to students unless supervised by a member of the staff."  
  
A cigar-chomping goblin to Mather's right tugged the Dean's robe. Dean Mather leaned over and the goblin whispered in Mather's ear. Mather straightened up and spoke again, "And our defence against the dark arts teacher Professor Stryker would remind us, with Sirius Black on the loose, to watch out for any adults not of the staff or any signs of intrusion and report both to him immediately." Dean Mather sat down and plates and food materialized over all the tables.  
  
Between mouthfuls Joel looked over the faculty table. Stryker glared over the tables, his robe in camouflage colours and sporting a crew cut his expression bellowed 'What is your major malfunction?'  
  
To Mather's left sat a svelte woman with flowing hair and long, slender fingers. The plate in front of her was empty; rather she dipped three fingers into the clear goblet in front of her, and it looked as though the digits drank up the wine like straws.  
  
To Stryker's right sat someone who looked like he belonged in a heavy metal band, flashy robe with exaggerated shoulders, a heavily made-up face and Elvis/Billy Idol lip curl. Something in Joel looked forward to hearing from this teacher.  
  
The feast ended, a fifth-year student directed the first-years to follow him. They walked through corridors that looked alike save for different portraits whose subjects scrutinized them carefully. Eventually they reached a flight of stairs across from a door.  
  
"Upstairs," The fifth-year pointed, "is the girls dormitory. Downstairs is the boys and there," gesturing to the door, "Is for any hermaphrodite students."  
  
Joel, Thurston and Daniel gave each other weird looks, and were surprised to see several students head for the door. The others climbed up or down the stairs and the fifth-year looked at the three, "I suggest you get some sleep, you're going to be facing Stryker in the morning, you'll need your strength."  
  
The three entered the dorm; found that their supplies had been placed before beds next to each other, which seemed a rather unlikely coincidence. They changed into nightclothes, turned off lights but struggled to go to sleep, fear and curiosity of the future conspired to keep them awake. 


	2. The Three Strikes 2

The Three Strikes  
  
2: First Daze  
  
First class of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and students hurried to find a desk; at breakfast older students had implied dire fates for anyone Stryker found not seated. The rush separated Joel from Thirsty and Daniel, he grabbed chair, found seats before him filled by two of Hero Windsor's clique and directly behind Hero herself, as she turned her head and marked Joel with plain disgust.  
  
"One of Thurston's friends," she rolled her eyes, "Well I hope you remembered your flea collar."  
  
Joel contemplated stabbing her through the ear with his wand, but rather than waste a good wand waited till Hero turned around and dipped a lock of her blonde hair into his inkwell.   
  
At that point the door blasted open and the nastiest looking goblin stormed in and barked for attention. Everyone fell silent, too afraid to chuckle even when Professor Stryker pulled himself to his high chair, "All right you maggots let's get something clear- not long from now you are going to curse the ground I walk on, but I'm not here to be liked! I'm here to teach you how to save your own hides- McGuffery! What Is Windsor's hair doing in your inkwell?"  
  
  
  
Joel swallowed hard, and feebly replied, It'll be a few years before I can snap her bra strap." Other students laughed then slammed their mouths shut with their hands. Stryker also chuckled, but more out of menace, "Oh you think embarrassing other students is funny? Well let's try another," The goblin's wand stabbed toward Joel as Stryker shouted "Proteus Panim Invertei!"  
  
Joel closed his eyes in reflex, on opening him he saw not the back of Hero's head but another student's giggling face.  
  
"What are you giggling at?" Joel swung his arm but it swung in the empty air behind him, on trying to stand up Joel fell and realized what was wrong- Stryker had moved Joel's face to the back of his head.  
  
"That," Stryker retracted his wand, "Is only one trick I have for curing potential class clowns, the others are much more imaginative."  
  
Joel struggles to right himself resembled a flopping fish out of water, "How am I supposed to study like this?" he bellowed.  
  
"Indeed," Stryker grinned malignantly, "Which is why you should think before you prank. Consider that the most important lesson for today, all of you."  
  
On dismissal Thurston and Daniel braced Joel on their shoulders and started to walk him to the infirmary, "We'll have you back in time for flying lessons!" Daniel said half-heartedly. Joel couldn't turn his head far enough to look Daniel in the eye, instead he glared at Hero and her friends who pointed and laughed at him  
  
"Nothing Personal Thirsty," Joel started, "But I'm really starting to hate your sister."  
  
"Get in line, Joel."  
  
The students lined up in two ranks facing each other, brooms at their sides. The husky form of Coach Small approached them with broom in a hand that could wrap around Joel's head. On his command the students willed their brooms up and caught them in their hands, then mounted the brooms and began to hover.  
  
On looking around him Thirsty coughed; except for him and his twin the other students and coach rode their brooms with the brush ends in front.  
  
Hero on the other hand laughed, "Look how stupid you look- you're all riding your brooms backwards!"  
  
"Bite me oily-locks," Joel snarled, "This is how we've always ridden our brooms in this part of the world."  
  
"Quiet both of you," Coach Small yelled, "Not all schools teach things exactly the same way, and riding bristles first has suited us fine, just as witches and wizards from England have their own methods."  
  
"Well, when in Rome," Thirsty tired to turn his broom around, and on momentarily breaking his concentration started to speed up higher until Coach Small caught up to him, grabbed the broom stick and held it fast.  
  
"Now I suggest you all forget what each other is doing, and concentrate on slowly lowering yourselves to the ground." Small let go of Thirsty's broom stick..  
  
Upon heading back inside Thirsty took a peek behind him, Hero's friends turned their broomsticks around, holding them the way Hero did. He rolled his eyes, "Conformists."  
  
Professor De-Lis, the Herbology teacher Joel had seen drink through her fingers met the first year students in the sweltering, insect-filled greenhouse. On closer scrutiny her hair fell like willow branches, her skin was pale as birch bark and her eyelids looked like flower petals . The students acknowledged her, but most were trying to swat away the mass of flies. De-Lis opened her mouth, causing gasps when students noticed she had sharp thorns for teeth; and extended a pink tongue covered with bristles.  
  
A sweet fragrance filled the air; the bulk of the flies swarmed onto De-Lis' tongue and became stuck. De-Lis closed her mouth and swallowed; and seeing the students stare she simply shrugged and mumbled something about missing breakfast.  
  
Lunch hour came; Joel, Thirsty and Daniel sat down together. Joel wiped the sweat from his forehead, "If this is the first day, I'm not sure I'll have the strength for finals."  
  
Daniel and Thirsty nodded. Thirsty turned to Daniel and asked, "Who's our next victim?"  
  
Daniel looked at his orientation parchment, "Professor Letwin- Magical History."  
  
At this point the portrait of a stodgy old man groaned in annoyance. The boys turned to look at it, Joel walked to the picture, and read on the frame, "Miles Hulik- Professor of Magical History 1899- 1957," then met the portrait subject's gaze "You used to have his job?"  
  
"Yes I did, and I watched over his classes till he had me moved here- he didn't care what experience and wisdom I had to share. No, he feels compelled to burden his teaching with unnecessary `theatrics'."  
  
The boys exchanged glances.  
  
The students took their seats, Professor Letwin nowhere in sight. They turned to each other speculating when fireworks abruptly caught their eyes and Professor Letwin out of nowhere appeared the flashy teacher Joel had studied at the previous night's dinner with flamboyant shoulder pads, makeup and a glittering, kabuki wig.   
  
"Greetings students," Professor Letwin sung his arms in grand gestures, "I am Professor Letwin. Too many teachers, I won't mention names are content to dull the mind with droning lectures and have students scribble down obscure names and dates- I feel a true teacher knows how to make magical history come alive!"  
  
With that Letwin swung his wand toward a canvas covered with a sheet. The sheet flew off as if it were caught in an updraft and on the canvas Wizards duelled with Shamen until one Shaman repelled his opponents and waved his staff toward the students, Most of whom dived for cover; Joel and Thirsty thrust out their wands but stammered while Daniel hurled his inkwell at the canvas. Black ink spilled all over the enchanted painting.  
  
"Ahem," Letwin cleared his throat, "That was a depiction of one of the power struggles between Shamen and immigrant witches and wizards; only a depiction, they were incapable of actually harming you." He smiled at Daniel, "Good reflexes thought, Svaarsgard."   
  
The Professor again aimed his wand at the canvas, "Scourgify." The ink repelled from the canvas, Professor Letwin continued with the lesson.  
  
The classes passed by, soon the students found themselves dining in the Great Hall. The Faculty watched over their charges, Dean Mather leaned toward Stryker, "What do you make of the new arrivals, Professor Stryker?"  
  
The goblin pointed toward McGuffery, "That one, is a troublemaker. And he'll drag his two friends down with him."  
  
Letwin scoffed, "Oh come on now, they have minds of their own, and besides what school would be complete without a jester or two?" Letwin downed a murky drink, "I turned out alright and I was more of a troublemaker than" Letwin pointed "the three musketeers."  
  
Stryker grumbled, "More like the Three Strikes." Letwin and Mather chuckled. 


End file.
